


A moment in the feywild

by cicatrixtwigs



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Mentions of Vox Machina, Minor spoilers for the end of Campaign 1, The Feywild, The Traveller is Artagan and I will go down with this headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 07:04:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16805806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cicatrixtwigs/pseuds/cicatrixtwigs
Summary: This Arch-Fey had been able to command time. This arch-fey knew secrets that Caleb desperately wanted.





	A moment in the feywild

Caleb closed the door apprehensively behind them, trying to dampen the urge to relax. He did not believe they had been followed. He had been in disguise, and had quickly disappeared in the milling crowd while Beauregard did… well, whatever it was, it had been impressive. She’d somehow scaled a wall, leaping from roof to roof, leading the guards on a merry chase. He was less regularly impressed by her physical feats as time went on, but every now and then she did something that seemed almost magically aided, leaving him absorbed in trying to divine her methods.

Jester had followed his lead and kept in step with him, while the rest of the Nein applied their talents (to varying degrees of success). Nott had vanished completely, and Fjord had taken on a guise to join the guards in pursuit of Beau. He knew they would be okay. He hoped they would be okay.

_“Beau punched a guard, but Fjord said she dropped some fancy names and is now being entertained by the captain as an honoured guest! She told them she was after the thief. You can reply to this message!”_

Relief flooding through his system, Caleb automatically touched the new book in his holster for reassurance, then sent his reply.

“Jester and I made it to the hunting district, we think we’re in someone’s summer lodge… But it is abandoned, and we are okay. We will lay low and find you tomorrow morning.”

“Was that Nott? Are they okay?” Jester peered around a doorframe. She was wearing a very fine ladies hunting hat.

“What… “ Caleb blinked “…Yes. They are fine. Beauregard is making friends.”

Jester scrunched her nose “... Is that sarcasm, Caleb?”

“No. She is apparently being entertained by the captain of the guard.”

“’Entertained’?” replied Jester, with air quotes, looking dubious.

“Genuinely. Dinner, I believe.”

“Oh!” Jester brightened. “So she’s probably a hot lady guard captain? Beau is veeeeeeery good at “entertaining” those.” Waggling her eyebrows, Jester disappeared behind the doorframe.

After running the perimeter with silver thread, Caleb finally allowed himself to breathe. He took the book out, reverently running his hands across the binding. This… this was a good day. Listening to Jester explore the house, creaking up the old stairs and flinging open wardrobe doors with the wild abandon only dressing up in fancy clothes could inspire, Caleb settled down to read.

This really was… something. He’d heard the tales… who hadn’t? But after Beauregard had granted him access to the Cobalt reserve, he’d followed up on the hints he’d gleaned from the epic bardic songs and tracked down The Tales of Vox Machina. The reserve reports hadn’t contained much information from their time in the Feywild, but just enough that peaked his interest. 

Time. Time to prepare for their final great battle. Time to defeat even a god.

From what he understood, they Arch-Fey Artagan had granted the intrepid group a boon – that he would make it so that no time would pass on the prime material plane while they visited the feywild. Histories were rife with accounts of the shifting nature of time in the fey-wild with adventurers returning home with hundreds of years passed – and that very unsettling account of the gnome who was his own grandfather, thanks to a quirk of the timeline upon his return - but very little of the source of that change. It always appeared random. Wild Magic.

But this… this was a source. This Arch-Fey had been able to command time. This arch-fey knew secrets that Caleb desperately wanted.

And he now had a book that taught him how to get to the Fey-Wild.

Then Jester screamed, accompanied by a great crash.

For the first time in his life, Caleb used expeditious retreat to run towards danger. He was the only one here to help her. He shouldn’t have been so absorbed in the book. He should have checked the whole house. It was his fault if Jester was hurt. It was his fault if he had to tell her Mama he had let her down…

He appeared in the bedroom doorway, flames blossoming from his fingertips. 

Jester was wearing a beautiful silver gown, that was spattered with red.

Red. Red. RED.

A man in a dark cloak had hold of her.

Caleb let the fire fly from his hands.

It careened into the empty fireplace that Jester and the mystery figure had obscured moments before, sparking the room into light.

He froze. The man had taken Jester. Jester was gone. He was too slow. He hadn’t been able to protect her.

He noticed the shattered bottle of wine on the floor catching the light from the fire. Red. OH. Red.

“Ahem.”

He whirled to face the bed. 

The man in the cloak sat demurely on the side of the bed, legs extended and crossed at the ankles. Lounging. An image of Frumpkin immediately flittered through Calebs mind. Behind him, Jester was up on her knees, bouncing excitedly on the bed and clapping.

“Isn’t he so very powerful? I told you! He is very, VERY good with fire. He’s very good with all magic. I think you will like him… although he isn’t very easy to prank. He’s too clever.”

The cloaked figure tipped his head and the firelight caught his smile

“The clever ones are the most satisfying to trick though…”

Caleb stammered, looking between the two.

“Jes... Jester? What is this? Who is this man?”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “OH.” She leapt from the bed, and bowed, adopting a deep, official and undeniably fancy accent…

“Sir Caleb Widogast” She looked up, tipping her head slightly and adding uncertainly “Kind of.. kind of?” before adding more firmly “Kind of sometimes when Fjord doesn’t feel like it or it needs books or something, Leader of the Mighty Nein. Please meet the divine grace himself, the main man, my absolute best friend in the WHOLE WORLD…” her bow became a flourish “The Traveller.”

The man on the bed stood, stepping forward. He reached to remove his hood. His hair was the colour of fire. It almost flickered around his tapered ears, like a glorious mane. He smiled broadly, knowingly, and extended his hand.

“Oh Jester, I believe your friend here has been looking for me…”

Caleb felt himself reaching to take the man’s hand, his ears ringing with the words spoken to him by Caduceus only weeks before…

_**“Do you believe in fate, Mr Caleb?”** _

**Author's Note:**

> Literally my first fic in about 15 years. My first for the Critical Role fandom.
> 
> I hope others love the Artagan = Traveller headcanon as much as me :D


End file.
